Free Kick by Tom Palmer (that summer book .TXT) 📕

The game between James and Jake was close. James took the lead three times, but Jake pegged him back three times too. James couldn’t get his defence right. He wished he’d chosen another formation.

There was a minute to go, so James decided to try to play the way he liked best: quick passing, no time for Jake’s players to tackle him. He passed the ball through his defence, up to his midfielders. The clock was running down. In injury time already. So he passed it forward, hoping one of his strikers would get on the end of it. And one did, hoofing it past the keeper.

Four–three.

James had won it in the last seconds.

After watching Ryan’s game against James’s dad, Jake and James had a look round the amusement arcade. There was loud music. It was the recent X Factor winner, a tune everybody knew now.

Craig was in the amusement arcade playing on one of those machines with a shelf of two-pence pieces that you have to try to dislodge by dropping in more coins. But he wasn’t doing very well.

Jake noticed him shove the machine.

Immediately an alarm went off. A man in a uniform arrived just as Craig was collecting the coins that he’d ‘won’.

Craig was always getting into trouble.

Jake and James watched, frowning.

‘He’s at it again,’ Jake said.

James shrugged.

Jake realized that James hadn’t said a word since their FIFA 10 game.

‘I don’t mind that you beat me,’ Jake said.

James smiled. ‘I know. Sorry. I’m miles away.’

‘Can I ask you a question?’

‘Sure,’ James replied.

‘Were you really ill for the Bradford game the other week?’

James smiled, then shook his head. Bradford was the game he had missed – on purpose.

‘No,’ he said.

‘Right,’ Jake said, then turned to stare at the other end of the service station.

James felt suddenly unhappy. Had Jake turned away and stopped talking to him? Was this the kind of reaction he was going to get if he decided to give up football?

Then Jake turned back to face him.

‘I think you need to sort it,’ Jake said. ‘Can I help you?’

‘Sort what?’ James asked. Did Jake know what he was thinking?

‘Sort whatever it is that’s making you sad. You look unhappy.’

James nodded. Maybe Jake was right. Maybe the time had come.

FIFA 10 Quarter-final scores

James

4–3

Jake

Ryan

4–5

James’s dad

Ronan

6–8

Tomasz

Tony

3–6

Sam

Bright Lights, Big City

The coach came off the end of the M1 motorway in London and immediately hit traffic. Slow roads filled with cars and buses and lorries. And roadworks.

Suddenly the coach came to life. The atmosphere had changed. Boys who had been quiet for the whole journey started shouting to each other.

James stared out at the streets. Lots of people were carrying shopping bags, and coloured lights were strung from shop to shop. He saw massive Christmas trees in windows. And everything looked big. This was London, the capital city, where everything was supposed to be big.

Normally James would have been excited by this, like the rest of the team were. He liked coming to London. He liked Christmas. He liked football tournaments. But he couldn’t stop himself from worrying.

He closed his eyes, trying to work out his thoughts. But, as he did, he sensed someone near him. He kept his eyes closed. He felt like being alone. Travelling away with everyone wasn’t a good thing, not now.

Then he felt an arm come around him.

He opened his eyes.

Dad.

‘You’ve been quiet, James.’

James shrugged. ‘Just tired,’ he lied.

‘Do you know who you’ve got in the FIFA 10 semifinal?’ Dad asked.

James had forgotten about the tournament. He was miles away. It’d be Ryan: he would be next.

Ryan was the team captain of the under-twelves. Up until a few weeks ago he’d been a bit of a bully. But recently he’d changed – thanks probably to Steve stripping him of the captaincy for a few games. James had grown to like him a lot more. But Ryan was too good at FIFA 10 for James. He spent hours playing on his PSP at home.

‘Ryan?’ James said.

‘No.’ James’s dad grinned. ‘Me.’

James smiled. ‘You beat Ryan?’

‘Oh yes,’ Dad said.

‘He must have let you win,’ James said.

‘Really?’ Dad laughed. ‘I suppose you’re going to let me win too?’

‘Yeah, right.’

‘Come on then,’ Dad said, narrowing his eyes.

James looked out at the streets again. He thought that they must be in the centre of London. He could see the London Underground tube stations, a tangle of roads, railway bridges.

‘Is there time to play?’ he said. ‘Aren’t we nearly there?’

‘It’ll take a while to get through London,’ Dad said. ‘Plenty of time for me to beat you. Then someone else in the final. Then the prize is mine.’

James sat up. ‘No way!’

The game was even. James scored with his first attack. But his dad equalized, then took the lead. They knew each other’s game too well. James’s dad’s weakness was that he was always West Ham. James was United. That gave him the upper hand, because United were better than West Ham on FIFA 10.

But his dad was so competitive. His players went flying into tackles and he never gave up possession.

With seconds to go it was two–two. Then James’s dad picked up the ball and shot from the halfway line. The ball bounced once in front of James’s keeper. The keeper jumped to catch it, but it slipped through his fingers. And fell into the net.

A massive cheer went up behind James. He looked round. Half the lads were watching the game over his shoulder.

‘Beaten by your old man,’ Craig said, shaking his head. ‘Pathetic, James. Pathetic.’

James shook his dad’s hand, trying to be sportsmanlike, but underneath he felt really angry. More with Craig than his dad.

James’s dad looked over to Tomasz, who had also made it to the final.

‘I’ll have to beat you later, Tomasz,’ he said. ‘We’re nearly there.’

Then there was a shout: ‘Sit DOWN!’ Steve had spotted some of the lads out of their seats.

As the boys got